


Raspberry Beret

by buckybarfs



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV), Twd - Fandom
Genre: Daryl Dixon & Beth Greene Friendship, Daryl Dixon Smut, Daryl Dixon feels, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Large group of OC characters, Lots of children and parent fluff, M/M, Military Characters, Military OFC, Military Uniforms, More characters too but I'm too lazy to tag, Multi, OFC sings a lot, POV Changes, POV Third Person Omniscient, Some triggers probably, Survivors, This takes place at the prison, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 15:05:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10901817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckybarfs/pseuds/buckybarfs
Summary: The group was odd, the men all wore dirty and torn clothing, some of it he could tell was camo the rest of it was the plain muddled colors that everybody else wore now a days. Clothes were hard to keep nice when you constantly had to fight for your life. The girl in their group, she was something else. She stood in front of all of them, the clear leader of the large men that towered over her small frame. A pair of too big overalls hung on her frame, one side undone to reveal the dirty and torn green shirt she wore underneath, the pants were tucked into well kept combat boots, something he could understand. Good boots were hard to come by these days, shoes had been hard enough to find in a specific size before the apocalypse, now they were nearly impossible. The most remarkable thing about her though, was the raspberry beret she wore on top of her tangled orange tresses.





	Raspberry Beret

**Author's Note:**

> I've never read the comics and as of publishing this I've only gotten to Season 5 Episode 3. So, I'm doing my best here. I hope I can do these characters justice as it's my first time writing them! This series will have LOTS of original characters, some more important than others and the rest you can guess by the tags. I also don't have a test reader or a proof reader or anything like that so if there are any typos I'm sorry!

She hadn’t survived this long because of dumb luck, no, she had survived this long due to her training and the power she held over men.  Without those two things she would surely be dead, as this train of thought passed through her head for the hundredth time she sent a silent prayer, thanking her mother for hand selecting the best genetic material and thanking the men that had relentlessly yelled at her as a way of encouraging her to be her best self. 

Her boys often made fun of her, she supposed there was a lot to laugh at she was quite the character, and these days she didn’t discourage laughter, it was rare enough already. Today’s topic was her beret, her raspberry beret. Though she had begged them to be quiet for survival's sake they insisted on following her around and singing the lyrics. She loved them, she would follow them to the ends of the earth and if necessary she would die for them, something she knew they would do too. 

“Man, am I sick of eating MRE’s.” Portell grumbled as he tossed the empty wrapping on the ground. 

Ramirez chuckled, deep and throaty before responding, “Man, that’s all we lived on for years, you should be used to ‘em by now.”

“I don’t know about y’all boys but I had a Subway directly across from my bricks.” She replied, her mouth immediately watering at the thought of fresh ingredients. She could really go for Subway right now, too bad all the food would be rotten and the employees to busy thinking about eating guts to make a sandwich. “Shouldn’t throw your trash on the ground.” She mumbled as an afterthought, she knew it was pointless, the world was ending anyways but old habits died hard.

“Shut up, Collins.” The two men groaned in unison. 

Collins, it wasn’t her first name, but it’s all she was called now, aside from the nicknames her men supplied her with. She doubted she would respond to her first name if somebody said it, it had been so long. Before all the apocalypse mess even her husband had called her by her last name, Collins, she was Collins and he was Nelson. Some people had thought it odd that she never changed her name to his, but it made sense to her. Less paperwork and she didn’t have to spend money getting new name tapes made. 

“Have the rest come back from scouting yet?” She asked dully as she poked her bag of mush with a vengeance. It had been too long since she’d had something real to eat, she was aching for fruit, any kind, just something. Before this she had been a vegetarian, she had a large kitchen in her home where she cooked all the amazing seasoned meals she could dream of. Now she had a camp stove and nothing to cook on it. 

“Just did.” Carter’s voice came from above her, pulling her out of her sulky reviere. 

A squeal of a laugh bubbled out of her throat as her MRE hit the ground, she decided that if it got dirt it in it wouldn’t matter, it tasted like dirt anyways. A series of groans was heard from the surrounding men as she leapt into the man’s arms, the two had been friends for longer than anybody else in the group, it was nerve racking to both of them to be separated. The tanned man laughed, his bushy eyebrows raising to what would have been his hairline if he hadn’t been bald, as he held onto the pallid woman for dear life. 

“Missed you, Jojo.” He hummed as he buried his face into her ginger locks, his other hand moving to stroke her hair and remove some of the twigs that had lodged into the unruly locks.

Her hair had been a light auburn over the winter, but as they spent more time in the sun and the temperature got warmer her hair lightened to a flaming orange. That winter they had followed her around singing Jolene, it had been annoying but she had never complained, her boys deserved the small joys in life. Even if it was something as simple as singing a Dolly Parton song.

After he set her down the two simply smiled at each other for a moment before Ramirez cleared his throat in order to grab their attention. “So what’s the verdict?” He asked lowly, avoiding looking at the two. Though they weren’t romantically involved it was still awkward staring at their outright affection.

“Easy peasy. The town of Southwind is ripe for the taking.” Carter affirmed, nodding eagerly at the prospect of finding some real food and possible luxury items. 

“Tomorrow then, rest tonight. You, myself, Ramirez, Lewis, Lee, Portell, the Things, Wilson and Clark will raid it. Rodriguez, Davis, and Jones will stay at camp with Alaya, Pat, Cassie and Molls.” Collins said, some hesitation in her voice. She paused before continuing, “Did you get a map of the town?”

Carter walked over to a silver truck and gleefully slapped a map down onto the bed of it, spreading it out so his companion could see. The redhead strolled over to stand beside him, her eyes scanning the map as she took in the layout of the town. Carter had made notes on the map in blue sharpie, helping further their knowledge of the small town. 

“It seem like there were a lot of Rotters?” Her question was simple but it held more meaning that it sounded like. The question was a way of asking if it seemed like others had been there, or if all the former tenants of the town still roamed the street.

“Naw, it’s a small town. Had maybe four hundred people before this all went to hell.” Was her second in commands answer.

Collins nodded, satisfied with his answer, before replying, “Small town, that’s good. There’s bound to be a few small mom ‘n pop shops unraided. In hard times everyone goes to the chain stores.” She ran her fingers over the map, memorizing the layout as she asked another question. “Any thrift stores?”

A nod was her only response.

“Good work.” She praised him, turning to cup his face with one of her hands she stroked his stubbled jaw, a soft look in her eyes as she watched him melt over the praise. 

Thrift stores were good, hardly anyone would think to raid them and unlike chain stores they didn’t get rid of items that were out of season. They were bound to have coats, jackets, boots, and other things to prepare them for when winter came. Not to mention pillows and cutlery, plus books, Molly would be needing books soon and she grew like a weed, she’d need clothes of all different sizes for the upcoming year same went for Cassie. Patrick grew taller and taller with each passing day, he’d need the new clothes, if they could find them.

* * *

Daryl watched her from his rooftop perch, he didn’t often hide out on roofs but this was a special occasion. A group had rolled into town, as he had been searching a little mom ‘n pop convenience store for more formula for his little asskicker. He had been upstairs checking what appeared to be a nursery, hoping to find clothes or something for her when he heard them outside. The nearest door was one to the roof, though in his haste to duck out he hadn’t read the sign and now he found himself without an escape route. The roof was not where he wanted to be, but at this point he didn’t have a choice. 

The group was odd, the men all wore dirty and torn clothing, some of it he could tell was camo the rest of it was the plain muddled colors that everybody else wore now a days. Clothes were hard to keep nice when you constantly had to fight for you life. The girl in their group, she was something else. She stood in front of all of them, the clear leader of the large men that towered over her small frame. A pair of too big overalls hung on her frame, one side undone to reveal the dirty and torn green shirt she wore underneath, the pants were tucked into well kept combat boots, something he could understand. Good boots were hard to come by these days, shoes had been hard enough to find in a specific size before the apocalypse, now they were nearly impossible. The most remarkable thing about her though, was the raspberry beret she wore on top of her tangled orange tresses. 

If he looked directly over the ledge he could see Rick, Carl and Glenn hiding behind a car, hoping to not be spotted. Daryl knew that if need be the men could take care of themselves, but he also knew that he could fairly easily take out some of the men and create a decent enough cover for them to escape under. His mind was always like, a constant static of plans and ideas on what to do next, how to survive. It never stopped, not even in his dreams, it seemed he could never escape this world.

His heart rate sped up as she approached the car that Rick and Glenn had taken cover behind, but to his relief she deemed it to be useless and moved on to next. He really didn’t want to take on this group, if necessary he could try but attempting to take out the group of ten would be difficult. So he thanked his lucky stars that the Honda hadn’t been good enough for her.

To his amusement he watched the girl slip a lock on an older Buick and slide into the car, he could see the telltale signs of hotwiring from here, but he couldn’t understand why. The group had two cars with them, good sized trucks that seemed to be in good shape, a shitty buick wouldn’t help them any. Then the music started, blaring from the car and after the initial curses and incoherent mumbles wondering what the hell they were doing he wondered how she had gotten the music to play. There weren’t any functioning radio stations now a days, and there certainly weren’t any fully charged music players just sitting around. His question was answered when one of the men spoke up, shouting like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“What CD did you pick this time, _Harley_?”

“Harley! That’s a good one, haven’t heard it in a while.” The redhead replied bemusedly as she continued to fiddle with the car, turning up the volume and rolling the windows part of the way down before shutting the doors. 

“Yeah, well I noticed you brought the mallet, so.” Was the man’s reply, accompanied with a carefree shrug.

Daryl wondered why this group was trying to attract walkers, and not away from them, the group was asking for the dead to come over. It was a tactic he had never seen before and that interested him, or perhaps it wasn’t a tactic at all and she was Jim Jonesing her whole group.

“Swan Songs, I put in Swan Songs.” Was her curt answer, the dead were beginning their slow march towards the group who still stood lounging around their vehicles as if there wasn’t a horde of zombies approaching them. The girl slid out of the car now, moving to walk back to her group, the trucks had been backed up to face the horde, on the beds Daryl could see guns and ammunition, things they definitely needed at the moment. Surprisingly she didn’t reach for one of the guns, or one of the crossbows, not even one of the large hunting knives laid out. She instead picked up a large long handled rubber mallet, like the kind from the High Striker game that every shitty carnival boasted. The men behind her chuckled and leered at her choice of weapons, but she didn’t seem to mind, simply accepting it with a soft smile aimed at nobody in particular. 

He watched her approach the herde mallet over her shoulder, stopping at the car to turn the volume up again, just incase the walkers in the next county over couldn’t hear it. The music was fuzzy now, but he could hear vague words through the pounding of the bass.

It happened slowly, as if in slow motion, for a moment Daryl found himself awestruck. She spun the mallet, throwing all her strength into it as it connected with one of the walkers heads, which lead that walker to topple over into the one beside it, creating a domino effect that sent seven or so of the walkers to the ground. As she bent over to start smashing the skulls of the dead to make them even deader the gunfire started, flying right over her head as the men slowly crept forward creating cover for her. But just like that it stopped again, allowing her to continue dancing through the walkers swinging her mallet like a character out of a damn video game. It was impressive if he were to be honest, the horde had grown to nearly forty walkers but none of the other survivors seemed worried, she kept doing her dance and they kept lazily firing at any she missed. When the whole horde had collapsed into a heap in the street she turned around, a smug smirk on her face as she faced her group.

“Our fearless leader.” A long brown haired man shouted sarcastically as he grabbed another gun from the bed of the truck and strapped it into a holster on his hip before heading down the street.

“Fuck off, Davis.” She growled as she moved back to the car to turn the volume down just enough for everyone to hear each other clearly, but loud enough for it to still attract walkers. 

“Thing one and Thing two you guard the trucks. If it’s a Rotter, kill it, if it’s a person, make polite chit chat until I get back. Davis, Lee, you check houses, stick together I can’t stress that enough. Wilson, Portell, you check the chain stores, it’s doubtful they’ll have much left but if remember to get creative. Lewis and Clark you explore the outskirts, I want every shack, shanty, and mobile home stripped. Carter you’re with me. You all know what you’re looking for.” She barked orders at the men, all of them nodding as they got theirs before finding their partner and taking off. 

Their tactics worked because their group was large, they could spare to send ten people out on a run, though by the sounds of it this was more than a run to grab a few things, this woman wanted the town stripped of resources. The names of her people amused him, Thing one and Thing two standing out along with Lewis and Clark who had been sent out to explore. It was smart, making sure everyone knew their jobs and had a clear idea on what they were to get, when they got back to the prison he’d have to implement that.

Daryl held his breath as he watched Glenn, Carl, and Rick ran into the building he was perched on while Thing one and Thing two were busy clapping each other on the backs over some joke they had made. He wished he could tell them somehow that it wasn’t a good idea to come into the store, it would be too hard to get out and if the other group came in they’d be stuck. 

It was a small wooden convenience store, probably built and owned by one of the locals. It had a second story that had probably housed the owners, and a back staircase that led all the way to the roof. Going upstairs had been Daryl’s first mistake, going to the roof his second. He could hear his group below him, probably hiding in one of the bedrooms under a bed or something.

* * *

Carl hadn’t wanted to run when the strange group came into town, he hadn’t wanted to hide, he was sick of both of those things. His father had pulled him down and tucked him behind a car, delicately as if he were a china doll. It annoyed the thirteen, nearly fourteen year old boy to no end. He had grown up in this world, he had seen its perils and he had done some awful things that no child should have to do, but he had done them, it wasn’t something he could change and now there was no going back.

The group had an ever growing threat against them that had led them to the small town of Southwind, The Governor was threat, one that needed to be taken out. Carl knew this, and he wanted to do everything he could to contribute to his group, to help protect his people. He wasn’t a child anymore, this world had stripped him of that. 

Now he sat hidden under a bed with his father, Glenn hiding behind the door as they heard the strange girl and the man named Carter rummage through the place. His blood boiled, they had guns, they looked well fed, they had things that his family needed. The apocalypse had treated some better than others and it wasn’t fair. He had become quite the bloodthirsty child, but despite that he still wanted to believe there were good people, he hoped this group was good, for his family’s sake.

His father had pointed out that the men appeared to be military, keeping a strict formation as they walked. Carl pointed out that they also wore camo, and not the fake camo you’d get at a chain clothing store, the actual digital camo that was sold at surplus stores and worn by the soldiers they too often found dead.

“Carter, stay down here, I’m going to clear the upstairs.” The girl called, causing everyone in the room to freeze, listening for her footsteps, wondering if she would find them.

“Scream if you need anything.” The man grumbled, clearly not worried about his companion going off on her own. 

She was a girl, a small girl, not much bigger than Carl and she was in charge of an entire group of men. A group who trusted her enough to follow her orders, and let her go off on her own without supervision. It made him mad, his ever growing rage was nearing its boiling point, he could tell and it worried him, he worried what would happen when he finally exploded, when he finally couldn’t take being treated like a child anymore. 

Her footsteps, feather light, hit a step near them, causing it to let out a low groan, she had made it up the stairs and halfway through the floor without making a sound. The creaking of the board made Carl uneasy, like it was just for their benefit. Then, he saw boots, heavy combat boots that stopped directly in front of his face, his father’s hand on his arm tightened as they both anticipated what would come next. He could feel his father readjusting and reaching for the gun that had sat on his hip for as long as the boy could remember.

Then she let out a sigh, and much to the shock of everyone in the room she spoke. “I won’t hurt y’all, come out and we’ll talk. Put your weapons on the floor before you come out.” Her voice was soft and not the southern drawl that he was so used to hearing. She didn’t sound like she was from this part of the country at all, it confused him, the idea that somebody had made their way all the way over here during this shitfest of an apocalypse was crazy to him.

His father began to crawl out beside him, but when Carl tried to follow he motioned for him to stay. He wanted to argue with his father, she knew there were multiple people in the room and he worried that just his father coming out would anger her. They had all noticed she was armed to the teeth, with knives strapped to her belt and a gun on her hip, not to mention the giant mallet she had set near the door or the concealed gun on her ankle that his father had pointed out. 

He watched her boot reach out to pull the gun towards her, hooking her foot around it to bring it close enough for her to bend down and grab, her eyes never left his father as she picked the weapon up. She had rings on her fingers, varying shapes and colors, the one that stood out to him was a metal ring with two hands holding a shiny stone heart, it was something simple and girly, a sharp contrast to the way she carried herself. He could see how she was poised and ready to grab the piece strapped to her ankle, just in case his father decided to do something stupid. Which he didn’t doubt, he had been questioning a lot of his father’s decisions lately.

“Python, that’s a big gun. Quite the kickback.” She hummed, amusement in her voice. He could hear the metal clinking against the rings on her fingers as she turned the weapon over in her hands.

“What’s your name?” His father asked, his voice dry.

“Jolene, but my boys call me Collins. What are _y’alls_ names?” Her voice was casual, but he noticed that she kept to the point, pointing out that there were multiple people in the room.

“It’s just me. Name’s Rick, Rick Grimes.” Carl cringed as his father said this.

The woman chuckled, but it was humorless. “Don’t do this, Rick. I don’t want to be difficult about this, but there’s two other people in this room, not to mention your man on the roof.” There was no underlying threat in what she said, it was simply a statement.

Carl sighed and crawled out from under the bed, pulling his gun out of his holster and setting it down onto the bed, beside where she had lain his father’s pistol.

“I told you to stay under the bed.” Rick growled, causing Carl to roll his eyes. He knew his father only wanted to keep him safe but he also knew that he could handle himself.

“I’m Carl.” He said casually, reaching his hand out to shake hers. Maybe he deepened his voice more, maybe he straightened up a bit but it was only because he wanted to be treated like a man and not a child. He had done things that no child should ever have to do, he had grown up so incredibly fast, he deserved to be treated like a grown man.

He watched her mossy eyes light up, crinkling at the corners ever so slightly as she reached out and shook his hand. “Jolene Collins.” Up close he could see that she wasn’t as young as he had originally thought, though she couldn’t be older than twenty five. But still he respected that she had all these men wrapped around her finger, doing her bidding and taking orders.

“Glenn.” Carl smiled lightly as he watched Glenn sheepishly step from behind the door. 

“You’re probably sick of hearing my name.” She replied with a laugh as she reached out to shake his hand. “Would y’all mind calling your friend down from the roof? I don’t like the thought of him bein’ up there ready to take out my boys. I promise we won’t do anything to harm you.” Her smile was sweet and sincere as she said this, but Carl could still feel the distrust coming off his father in waves. 

“I’ll get him.” Carl said with a sigh, he started for the door only to have his father roughly grab his arm and yank him back. Despite the angry words that danced on the tip of his tongue he held back, the conversation he had been itching to have with his father could wait. 

“ _No!_ She hasn’t even told her man downstairs to stand down yet, who’s to say he won’t shoot you on sight?” Carl watched as she rolled her eyes at what his father said, outside he had heard her say not to kill any living people they came across.

“Carter!” She hollered, tilting her head toward the door, her eyes never leaving the small group in front of her.

“ _Love_ of my life?” He called back, his tone taunting. The words were sarcastic and Carl was willing to bet that she was in fact not the love of his life. 

“Friendlies upstairs, one on the roof. Do NOT shoot, no matter what.” Her voice was calm as she said this, although she had basically just given them permission to kill her and get away scot-free. 

There was a slight pause before the man answered, “How kind.”

She scoffed, “I need you to say it.” She rolled her eyes and shot them a sympathetic smile, it worried Carl. She seemed too carefree, not worried, too genuine. It was something that got most people killed in this world, kind people didn’t make it this far, but somehow she had survived this long. 

A head poked around the doorway, surprising all of them but her. Carl analyzed the man she had called Carter, he was in a Kevlar vest and a long sleeve green shirt, his head had been messily shaved, some parts of it still longer than others and his eyebrows were thick and knit together with worry. It was his eyes that surprised Carl the most, they were wide and brown, full of compassion as he looked down at his leader. The gun by his side was what Carl recognized as standard military issue, with another strapped to his back and a belt with slots for extra magazines, all of the slots were filled.

Carl stiffened as he felt the man’s eyes sweep the room, assessing the threat level of each and every person in it, his eyes landed on the bed which had their weapons laid out on it, in clear reach, a frown met his features as he noticed this. “Understood.” He nodded, looking back to Jolene before leaning down to wrap his arm around her in a soft hug. It surprised Carl that she was willing to turn her back on them, giving them a chance to hurt her, he wondered if she did it on purpose, a way to show trust.

Jolene murmured something into his ear, causing his father to stiffen with distrust, but Carl had heard it.  _ “If anything happens, protect them.” _ Carl was smart enough to recognize that he, Glenn, and his father weren’t who she meant. He pulled away from her, his brow still furrowed but he nodded, quick and to the point, before turning on his heel and creeping out the room, leaving as quietly as he had come.

She turned back to them, looking over them before her eyes settled on Rick. “Let me see your hands.” The question, no, demand, confused everyone in the room. Carl watched his father hesitate, causing the woman to let out a small sound of annoyance. Slowly Rick held his hands out, letting the woman take them in her own, though to Carls surprise she started rubbing his father’s wrist, turning them over and analyzing them. He opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by her making a throaty noise of approval before letting his father’s hands go.

* * *

“What was the point of that?” Rick asked, confusion in his voice. He felt like he was in a daze, the woman had just, massaged his wrists? What kind of normal person went around doing that?

He narrowed his blue eyes as she chuckled, “Sorry, I realized after how weird that would be.” She was dangerous, he could tell. She may seem small and kind but there was an underlying danger to her, she had all those men wrapped around her finger, people like that were dangerous. 

“You didn’t answer my question.” He insisted, stepping closer to her in an attempt to look menacing. She took it in stride, leaning up to look straight into his eyes, not a hint of worry in them. 

She laughed again, stepping back away from him and reaching behind him to grab his gun. He watched as held the gun for a moment, weighing it in her hands before flipping it around and holding it out to him. “Your wrists would be messed up.”

“What?” He was confused as to why his wrists would be messed up.

“That’s a big gun, lotta recoil. If you didn’t know what you were doing your wrists would be messed up, bruised, possibly sprained.” She glanced at his wrists again, causing him to flex his fingers and roll his wrists. “Law enforcement?” 

“Sheriff Deputy.” Was his curt reply, there was no need to give her anymore than that. “They’re military.” It was a statement, but he allowed room for her to reply. Actually hoping she would, the more he knew about her the more likely he was able to protect his family from her and her people.

“We can get to know each other when your man is off the roof, I’m sure not hearing from you is making him antsy.” Her statement was firm, leaving no room for discussion and Rick decided not to argue. 

“I’ll get him, you two stay here.” He nodded to Glenn and turned to clap his son on the shoulder, giving him a long meaningful look that he hoped translated well. He could tell his son wasn’t happy with him, but that was a problem for another time, his only priority right now was making sure his family was safe.

He slowly exited the room, just in case the man named Carter had come back upstairs, he hesitated at the door to the roof, listening for movement downstairs. He could hear cans clinking together and footsteps, he knew how silent these people could be, having experienced it first hand. The noises were for them.

Rick knocked on the door before opening it, it was a rhythm Daryl had taught him, for whistling or knocking or anything else just in case. Slowly he stepped up the stairs, his hand on his gun, just in case something had happened on the roof, he didn’t know what, but just in case. You could never be too safe in this world. He squinted as he opened the door to the roof, the sun was bright and he knew Daryl had to be cooking up here. Slowly he crept over to the man, he didn’t want to scare him, but he also didn’t want to be too loud and make the men on the street aware of their presence. 

“Daryl, come on man.” His voice was husky with worry as his whispered this, he didn’t know what to make of the woman and her men. She seemed genuine, but there were few genuine people in this world, and he could tell she was hiding something. The way she had avoided the military question made him suspicious plus how she had whispered something into her man’s ear after making him promise not to kill them. 

“What’s goin on?” His voice was gruff from disuse as he turned to look at his friend, lowering his crossbow.

“The girl inside told me to come get you, says she won’t hurt us.” Rick knew from that sentence that Daryl would get all he needed. People in this world couldn’t be trusted, something they both knew.

“Girl?”

Rick sighed, he had called her a girl, but someone with that much power over that many men wasn’t a girl anymore, she was young, but this world made you grow up fast. “She’s pretty young, maybe in her twenties.” 

Daryl simply huffed as he held up his crossbow, heading for the door. Rick stopped him grabbing onto his shoulder and pulling him away, motioning for him to put the weapon down. The two didn’t need words to communicate, they had been together for so long they could have a conversation with just a look, and right now Rick was telling him it wasn’t worth it. “We’re pretty heavily outnumbered.” 

The other man nodded and slowly the two crept back downstairs to find Jolene sitting on the bed with Carl beside her, Glenn leaning against the wall, all of them wore smiles. It was a confusing sight, Rick hadn’t been gone that long, maybe a few minutes.

“So how’d you get the mallet?” Carl asked, a cheeky grin on his face. Rick knew his son had been dying to get an answer to that question, it wasn’t your average everyday weapon. It was something with a story behind it.

“We were at a carnival, figured the rides at them are always breaking down, they’d probably have some tools and parts we could use just in case. Plus maybe some crappy carnival food. Shit’s pumped with preservatives. I was exploring on my own, walking around the little alley with the stand alone kind of games, ya know? The ring toss and that kind of stuff. I heard a Rotter behind me but my gun got stuck in my holster, so I panicked and grabbed the thing closest to me. Which happened to be a giant mallet from a High Striker game. The Rotter turned out to be a clown, scared the hell out of me.” She spoke with her hands, making a visual with them to show what it had been like. It was entertaining to watch and it was a pretty decent story. 

“Why do they call you Harley?” Glenn asked, though Rick had a sneaking suspicion that he already knew.

“Harley Quinn, from the comics has a mallet she carries around.” She replied with a soft shrug, standing up to face Daryl and Rick in the doorway. Her stance was mildly defensive, her legs were planted firmly apart and her arms were crossed. She raised an inquisitive eyebrow as she stared at the men. Her head was cocked and for a fleeting minute Rick wondered how the hat stayed on her head.

“Why do you let them laugh at you?” Was Carl’s question, his father cringed, worried the question would upset the woman. Instead she shrugged again.

“There’s not much laughter left in the world, if me having a mallet makes them laugh and think of better times, times when they could comfortably sit down and read a comic book or play a video game then so be it. If my beret makes them laugh and sing Prince like they don’t have a care in the world then so be it. If me having green eyes and red hair plus being named Jolene gives them a reason to sing then so be it. They deserve happiness and laughter. I’ll happily take the jokes if it keeps them smiling during times like this.” It wasn’t the answer any of them had expected, but revealing those tidbits of information meant a lot to them. It showed that she trusted them, and in a way it showed that if they killed her it would hurt her group irreparably. They were all starting to understand why the men followed her the way they did, she was a kind leader, level headed and willing to do anything to protect them. 

**Author's Note:**

> I love, love feedback!


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